


the transfiguration

by mochroimanam



Series: Trans!Ronan series [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Post-The Raven King, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:39:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochroimanam/pseuds/mochroimanam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry’s fingers spread and wiggle in a ‘ta-da’ sort of motion, dissolving the imaginary boxes as if he’s done a magic trick. Gansey thinks perhaps he has, as the proverbial lightbulb flickers to life above his own head. “Oh,” he says, and nods a little. “Are you saying you’re – would you call it transgender?”</p><p>(Included in the trans!Ronan series, and he is mentioned, but really it's the Everyone Should Just Be Trans series at heart, because that is my agenda)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the transfiguration

**Author's Note:**

> Based semi-loosely on this headcanon post on [transtrc](http://transtrc.tumblr.com/post/145316962991/headcanon-of-the-day) (which y'all should follow): "nonbinary henry confessing nb feelings to questioningly nb gansey and gansey feeling Super Known. gansey confesses questioning nb feelings back and henry is so elated to be gifted with this information and also feels Super Known. nb boyfriends henry and gansey who Understand each other without having to defend themselves to each other."
> 
> Thanks to my love [anirondack](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack) for the quick beta <3

It seems like a simple enough question at the time.

Gansey and Henry are waiting out back Nino’s for Blue to finish up her shift, their breath ghosting visible clouds of carbon dioxide into the January night. The thin woven bracelet had appeared on Henry’s wrist following a weekend in Richmond, and the care in the clearly handmade object with its small, simple words - ‘they/them’ - had caught Gansey’s attention immediately, especially when it became an ever-present accessory.

It’s more apparent tonight, a halo of bright color between Henry’s black winter gloves and the thick sleeve of his gray peacoat, and it had seemed as good a time as any to ask. It’s only because Gansey has been spending as much time as he has with Henry recently that he recognizes the subtle tension that appears beneath Henry’s ever-present grin.

He holds up his arm, studying the bracelet as if reading it for the first time himself. “What does it mean?” he asks, repeating Gansey’s query. “Ah, well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Grammar prescriptivists across the nation despair.” His tone is as casual as if they’re discussing a topic in their shared economics class, but the set to his shoulders is anything but. He taps his temple, then points to Gansey. “I fear a dedicated scholar such as yourself might not approve.”

Gansey suppresses a frown of confusion and waits patiently for Henry to go on. Up until now, Gansey had thought perhaps the bracelet was yet another obscure pop culture reference Henry would despair over Gansey’s ignorance on. He’s beginning to revise that initial assessment, paying careful attention to each word out of Henry’s mouth.

“I hadn’t expected to have this conversation next to the Nino’s dumpster, but I suppose it’s as good a place as any.” Henry cracks his knuckles, the sharp pops muffled by his gloves. The word  _ conversation _ seems like it should have a clear capital at the front of the word. A hint of concern makes Gansey stand a bit straighter. This is a degree of nerves Gansey’s not used to seeing in Henry; he’s reminded uncomfortably of the hours before his death and subsequent revival. Even then, Henry hadn’t seemed so uncertain.

Gansey gives him what he hopes is an encouraging smile, and considers his movements carefully before clapping a hand to Henry’s shoulder. He leaves it there a few beats longer than standard camaraderie calls for, squeezing the muscle before dropping his hand. “I’d hope that by now you know that I'm a friend first and a scholar second.”

Henry’s smile becomes a bit less tight and Gansey thinks perhaps he’s chosen the right words for once. “You sap,” Henry accuses. “And liar. We all know it’s impossible for you to be one without the other. But point taken.” He pats Gansey’s hand magnanimously, then lets out a heavy-sounding breath.

“What this means,” Henry begins, holding up his arm and wiggling his wrist, as if the bracelet is a particularly ineffective maraca, “is that I'm not a boy.” He frowns immediately. “Or a ‘man,’ I suppose, since we’re over eighteen and technically, if not practically, adults.”

Gansey blinks at him, reading the small text of the bracelet yet again and working through the rambling sentence.

“There’s men,” Henry continues, probably realizing he’s lost Gansey, and his pointer fingers outline a box in the air, the gesture conducting oxygen atoms into gendered order. “And women,” he draws another box next to the first. “And then there’s me.” Henry’s fingers spread and wiggle in a ‘ta-da’ sort of motion, dissolving the imaginary boxes as if he’s done a magic trick.

Gansey thinks perhaps he has, as the proverbial lightbulb flickers to life above his own head. “Oh,” he says, and nods a little. “Are you saying you’re – would you call it transgender?”

Gansey’s had Ronan Lynch as a significant part of his life for three years, after all. Years ago, before he’d gotten the hint that Ronan doesn’t much care for claiming labels or identifying with any sort of community outside of their small family, Gansey had done quite a lot of research, on everything from Ronan’s hormone injections to statistics to local resources to extensive terminology. There’s a flicker of familiarity at the concept of identifying with neither gender, enough that Gansey doesn’t feel entirely thrown off his feet by Henry’s words, although his brain still feels like it’s whirring furiously to keep up.

“Not like Lynch,” Henry says, as if reading Gansey’s thoughts. He shifts a little from foot to foot, and Robobee buzzes quietly from somewhere on his person, as if in emphasis or encouragement. “The term is nonbinary. Are you familiar?” Gansey hesitates, then shakes his head. “Most people aren’t,” Henry agrees, unbothered. “It means different things for different people, of course. For me, it’s that this whole ‘male’ business doesn’t always sit right. Often doesn’t, actually. It’s like our atrocious Aglionby uniform. Does nothing for my complexion, and yet I’m told I have to keep it on and wear it every day because it’s what’s proper, when all I want to do most days is yank it off and put on something that actually fits.” Henry looks as serious as Gansey’s ever seen him. A light dusting of snow has begun to whisper down around them, and Henry watches it fall onto his still-outstretched arm.

“Henry,” Gansey says softly. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

Henry shrugs. “It’s not so simple, Gansey boy! When the whole world deals in apples and oranges and you’re a pear. Or, no, pretend I said something more regal. A – a passion fruit, perhaps.” Henry gives a little flourish of his hand and grins, clearly trying for levity.

Gansey’s not fooled, and he turns to face Henry a little more straight on. Something about Henry’s words is making him feel a bit breathless. He keeps seeing Henry’s gesture, effortlessly dissolving those imaginary boxes; it makes something whisper inside of him in a fashion similar to how he imagines Adam used to feel Cabeswater’s presence. Since Cabeswater had died to bring him back to life, Gansey’s been catching glimpses of feelings inside himself he hasn’t been able to comprehend nor put words to. Something about the language Henry’s using is making those feelings turn a bit more solid.  

He sets that aside for now, focusing on the person – the friend – beside him. Gansey carefully reaches for Henry’s hand, lifting his wrist to trace the letters on the bracelet. “How can we – support this? For you?”

Henry’s eyes widen slightly and he looks down to where they’re touching. He seems a bit at a loss for words for a moment, then finally clears his throat. “Well. I’d appreciate the use of singular they pronouns when referring to me. That’s what the bracelet’s supposed to point out, anyway.”

“Of course,” Gansey says immediately, then frowns. This seems exactly like the kind of situation where his foot is going to remain firmly lodged in his mouth for weeks. “I'm not sure I entirely understand how to do that.”

Henry slings his – their? – arm around Gansey’s shoulder, a wide, real smile on their lips. “Not to worry,  _ mon amie, _ there’s a dearth of online resources for you to drown yourself in.”

“What a relief.” Gansey smiles, wrapping his arm around Henry’s waist. “As long as there’s not an exam. I'm terrible with testing conditions.”

“You’re already passing it,” Henry grins, and pokes at Gansey’s chest. “Blue knows, by the way, but if you want to tell Lynch and Parrish too, that’s fine by me.”

“What do I know?” Blue asks, shrugging on her violently maroon overcoat as she emerges from the door behind them, looking tired but pleased to see them.

“Everything,” Henry responds, turning his bright grin on her.

“Oh! Glad you're finally catching on.” She plants a quick kiss on each of their cheeks and takes Gansey’s hand, squeezing it hello. Gansey smiles broadly at them both and they start off down the tree-lined street, the snow falling more thickly around them, dreamily muffling the glow of the streetlights. Blue and Henry begin to chat happily, the way they always do after not seeing each other for a while, and Gansey allows the familiar sound to be a backdrop to further consider the niggling, newborn feelings in his chest that Henry’s words have seemed to give a bit more nurturance to. After a while, they fall quiet enough that Gansey notices, turning his head to find them both watching him expectantly. 

“Quarter million pennies for your thoughts?” Henry asks.

Gansey considers, glancing down at the band of brightness on Henry’s wrist once more. “How exactly does one go about becoming – what was it? Anti-binary?”

Henry and Blue both break into cackling laughter, and Gansey grins sheepishly. “Oh, Calla’s gonna love that one,” Blue laughs, then looks at Gansey a bit too knowingly.

“Well, first you’ve got to submit all the proper paperwork,” Henry suggests, their elbow bumping Gansey’s. “Then there’s the six to ten week wait for your license to transtrend to come in the mail–”

“Oh, stop,” Blue says, but she’s obviously amused. More prudently, she adds, “A good way to start is to just talk about how you’re feeling with people you trust. Right, Henry?”

“Right you are, good sir,” Henry says with a little salute. It seems he’s – they’ve? – cottoned on a bit now, because the look they give Gansey is bright, assessing, and fond all at once.

Gansey just smiles, watching Blue stick out her tongue to catch a particularly fluffy snowflake. The lines of the world feel like they’re being redrawn once again around him. It’s a feeling he’s gotten quite comfortable with. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 


End file.
